


Rest

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: F/M, Fluff, For Month of the Ship on tumblr, Jace is deprived of precious coffee, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: In the wake of the near-destruction of Ravnica, Jace has finally accepted his role as Ravnica's Living Guildpact. Working tirelessly to do his best for the ruined city plane, he neglects to do what is best for himself.  Upon recognising his self-destructive attitude, Vraska steps in. Jace is going to do something about his exhausted foul-smelling state and Vraska isn't taking no for an answer.





	Rest

For one blissful moment, Jace had a fresh cup of coffee. The next, it was gone.

He stared at his own hand where the coffee had once been. Then, as his exhausted brain caught up with this sudden turn of events, looked about for where said coffee was now.  He found it. His coffee was in the hands of one gorgon, who was leaning on his desk like it wasn’t the most important desk in Ravnica.

He hadn’t heard her come in. Years of experience as an assassin would do that. It didn’t help that it felt like someone had taped lead weights to his eyelids. He had discovered an entirely new form of being tired and it was one that could only be remedied by delving into the deepest blackest depths of the coffee pot. The coffee, Vraska was now denying him.

He squinted down at the planner Lavinia had nailed to his desk. He definitely had a meeting with the Golgari booked in sometime this week. Them and the rest of Ravnica. He traced today’s schedule with one finger, head almost colliding with the wood of his desk. There was a solid thunk as his hand came up to catch him, elbow slamming hard against the surface. The pain jerked him back to awareness. Oh right, there it was. Three hours booked for the Guildmaster of the Golgari.

“Please, sit,” he told her.

Vraska did not sit.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked. She was wearing her full monarch’s regalia, head to toe in carefully tailored mushroom and other fungi. Her skirts were a flash of colour in an otherwise dull grey office.  She looked magnificent. Jace had already told her this and her hair had curled up as the praise flustered her a little.  She looked regal no matter what she wore, captain’s coat or queen’s gown, but this new look was certainly quite… distracting.

“Jace.”

“I…err…had a coffee about an hour ago.”

“Ate,” Vraska repeated, “When did you eat?”

He cast his mind back, considering he was a mind mage, it shouldn’t be this difficult.

“I think Lavinia brought me take-out for lunch?”

“That was your dinner yesterday,” came a stern voice from the corridor.

Vraska folded her arms as if she had just made a point. She was still holding his coffee.

Jace frowned.

“When was the last time you left this room?” Vraska continued, “Have you slept at all since I saw you three days ago?”

Oh yes, the meeting with Vraska and those creepy looking lich lords. Food-distribution was key to rebuilding Ravnica and as the ones who produced most of said food, the Golgari were instrumental to keeping everyone fed. That particular meeting had gone rather well, but one arrangement was currently blending into the next. He just had so much to do.

“Yes, I napped in my chair,” he replied. With their last meeting so close, it seemed odd that Vraska would request another so soon. His time was hard-fought for at the moment, so it seemed peculiar that she would need it to demand answers about his current state of being.

“I appreciate your concern, I do,” he said. This was true. Apart from Lavinia’s nagging, Vraska had been the only one to consider how he was faring. People mostly wanted him to do things for them, even Emmara hadn’t hung about for much conversation. Yes, he could have made time to do things like sleep and eat, but he had a lot of making up to do. He had been a terrible Guildpact up to this point and now Ravnica needed him, he had no excuse not to give its recovery one hundred and ten percent of his energy. Large swathes of the city were nothing but rubble, thousands were dead, thousands more without homes, and all the Guilds were looking to him for instruction on how to best cooperate throughout the rebuilding effort. He didn’t have time for sleep.

“I’m up to here,” his hand shook somewhere about his forehead, “In meetings, and paperwork, and decisions. I have…” He checked the schedule.

“Six more meetings after this one. And that’s just today. I don’t have time to…to…”

“Take care of yourself?”  Vraska finally sat, hands in her lap, still holding his coffee. Her expression softened as she took in Jace’s dishevelled appearance from a closer distance.

“Jace, trust me, this is not an unfamiliar situation.” She looked down at the coffee, black as mana and almost as potent.

“When I first became Guildmaster, I slept no more than an hour a night, every night for a month. It almost killed me. I drank so much coffee I could barely hold a cup for how much my hands shook.”

Jace looked at his own hands. He was definitely getting there.

“And I felt like I owed it to my guild, to spend every day and night trying to make things right. But after a few months of nearly destroying myself, I realised I was just doing the devkarin’s work for them if I killed myself before I even experienced my first coup.”

Jace frowned at her. He was relating to her story up to the point she mentioned devkarin. Vraska sensed his confusion.

“What I’m trying to say is all your work is going to be in vain if you destroy yourself in the process. Yes, everyone is clamouring for the Guildpact’s time. But they’re not going to have a Guildpact if you work yourself to the bone. You are mortal, you need food and water and sleep. You’re not a construct designed to run on coffee.”

“I’ve seen one of those, the Izzet have them,” Jace managed to crack a smile. Vraska gave an indulgent huff of laughter.

“You’ve survived fights on countless planes. You survived being cast away with no memories of who you are. You survived Nicol Bolas and his eternal army,” she continued, “So, show some pride. Act like it and take care of yourself.”

“Is that an order, Captain?”

Vraska smiled.

“Yes, it is. Get some rest before I have to hoist you over my shoulder and take you to a bunk.”

Some small part of him wondered whether she could actually do that. Another part rather liked the idea of it.

“You wouldn’t. This is my office you know.”

Vraska stood up, her smile had turned cunning. She got up and strode over to the door. Opening it a crack, she addressed the person who was no doubt still outside.

“Captain Lavinia?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“Would it cause uproar if I were to manhandle the Guildpact out of his office? I will be taking him somewhere where he can obtain a hot meal, a night’s rest and a bath. I promise to return him once he is decent. However, the fuss he will make may lead others to believe he’s being kidnapped”

Jace watched the door as, to his great surprise, he thought he heard Lavinia chuckle.

“You have my permission to manhandle the Guildpact, your Majesty.  I can reschedule his meetings for the rest of the day and tomorrow morning if necessary.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Vraska returned her attention to the room. Jace couldn’t quite believe Lavinia had handed out manhandling permission so easily.

“Come on, let’s go before I really do hoist you over my shoulder.”

Jace shakily to his feet, narrowly missing the pointy corner of his desk and he reached for his cloak that law strewn across the floor.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he joined her slowly at the door.

“Home,”

“My home got des-“

Vraska cut him off.

“My home above ground. Shall we?” She opened the door for him to pass through.

The journey to Vraska’s home was slow but uneventful. Lavinia allowed them to pass, taking the coffee Vraska offered to her and drinking it with a mild look of relief on her face. As they left the makeshift Guildpact office, Jace had enough clarity to throw an illusion over the pair of them. It would undoubtedly turn heads if the Living Guildpact was seen walking down through the streets with the Golgari Queen. Vraska sensed the magic settling over them and complimented his quick thinking. The trip outside became worth it for that alone.

Jace wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Vraska’s home, but it wasn’t a cosy little apartment, not far from Tin Street. The building was narrow, almost cylindrical in shape, with a single lift running up and down the exterior. Vraska lived on the fourth floor. She pressed her hand against her front door and whispered what appeared to be a passphrase under her breath. Four clicks and a solid clunk later, they were inside.

“Wow,” Jace couldn’t help but express his astonishment at its interior.  Vraska’s apartment, though spotlessly tidy, was full of the most wondrous array of books and trinkets. Shelves of books lined every wall, with the occasional cosy nook or cranny, lined with blankets and cushions, no doubt for curling up and reading in. The window in this large circular room extended up two floors, and a plush velvet window seat took up its entire width.  The coffee table, surrounded by low comfortable armchairs, was littered with glistening nick-nacks. Small pieces of pottery, dishes, cups and sculptures were neatly arranged on shelves, some containing plants with others in hanging glass terrariums. He couldn’t help but note the books surrounding them were in many different languages which swam into legibility as he focussed on each one. These books must have been brought here from many different worlds. The same could probably be said for these fascinating little trinkets. This place looked like paradise for a curious mind. Vraska had built herself a little slice of bliss in the busiest part of the Tenth.

“It’s not much,” she said, closing the door softly behind them, “Bits I’ve picked up whilst travelling. After once owning so little, I developed a tendency to hoard-“

“It’s amazing,” Jace cut her off without meaning to and hastily mumbled an apology.

“I mean, thank you for showing this to me…This place seems really special.”

Vraska opened her mouth, closed it again, the tendrils of her hair curling a little tighter to her head as she gave a small smile. She was embarrassed, but pleased. Jace had come to note the quirks in her body language during their time at sea. He couldn’t help but enjoy making her happy.

“Well, you can have a look around after you’ve showered and rested,” she stated, “Bathroom is up the stairs to your left.”

“Am I that dirty?” Food and sleep he could do with but he hadn’t been anywhere filthy. Vraska ushered him towards the stairs.

“As a resident of the Undercity, who has toured multiple rot farms recently, I feel qualified to tell you that you stink.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

Showering felt good enough to ease any nerves that came with using someone else’s bathroom. It was only when he’d peeled his robes off that he realised how sweaty he’d become under the multiple layers of cloth and belts. It was a wet room like arrangement, so he carefully folded his robes on a chair, placed seemingly for that purpose just outside the room.  Vraska owned a lot of small bottles of nice smelling liquids, most of which were unlabelled. As he sniffed each one of them, he idly wondered what the procedure was for washing your hair when you were a gorgon. He eventually settled on one he definitely recognised the smell of and scrubbed himself clean.

When he emerged from the shower, he found his robes were gone, and instead there was a large blue tunic and a pair of trousers. With no other option, he donned those, the tunic felt odd compared to his robes, and both top and bottoms were a little on the baggy side.  Earlier he had given his robes an experimental sniff and gagged a little. He therefore didn’t begrudge having to wear something else for a little while.

He trod barefoot down the stairs to find Vraska waiting for him in her sitting room/library. She had changed into more casual clothing and now sat with a large canvas bag on the seat beside her. Jace could just about see his cape sticking out the top.

“I’m glad those mostly fit,” Vraska commented as she spotted him in his replacement clothing, “They were left behind by the previous owner. I laundered them of course.”

“Thank you.” Jace stood awkwardly by the stairs wondering what he was supposed to do now. He wanted to take a look at some of those books but he wasn’t going to start prying through her things without permission.

“I haven’t been back here in a while so there’s no food in the house,” Vraska continued, “I’ll drop these off to be laundered whilst I go get some.”

“Thank you, I-“ He didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful guest but a lot was happening very quickly. When he’d planned what he was doing today, none of it contained being whisked out of his office and being looked after like this. He wasn’t accustomed to such generosity without a price. What was he supposed to do to pay Vraska back in return?

“I’m really grateful, I am,” he continued, “You don’t have to do all this. I appreciate that you were worried. But you’ve let me in your house, given me a change of clothes, offered me a place to rest. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…“ His voice tailed off as he began to feel like an idiot for saying all that.”

Vraska stood up and walked over to him. She raised one hand, as if she was going to put it on his shoulder, but her hand twitched in hesitance and she thought better of it. She didn’t like physical contact, Jace could understand that and he was flattered she had tried.

“I do it because I want to,” Vraska stated, “Yes, I’ve been worried for quite some time. I didn’t want to fuss over you like you were incapable of looking after yourself. You are very capable, when you want to be.  But I couldn’t stand aside when you were deteriorating in front of my eyes.”

She picked up the bag of laundry and turned, away from Jace’s gaze.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you in a shocking state. This one however is a lot easier remedied. And even if it’s been some time since Ixalan, I still care about my crew… about you.”

“I-I still care about you too.” Jace almost cringed at how quickly he’d replied. He hated seeming desperate. It was the sort of thing he would surely have been mocked for in the past. Vraska however didn’t mock him. She made jokes, but she was never cruel to him, never demeaning. The difference was one of many factors that kept him stumbling over his words.

Vraska glanced back at him as she headed towards the door.

 “Please, go get some rest. There’s a bed in the room opposite the bathroom. This place is safe I promise you. I won’t be long.”

He merely nodded as she made a beeline for the door. There was a little too much haste in her step and Jace couldn’t help but wonder if she felt equally as awkward.

He was asleep as soon as he hit the bed. The bedroom was as enticingly decorated as the living room downstairs, but the allure of the mattress conquered even his need to poke around fascinating old books. When he awoke, it was dark outside. He could hear the rumble and chatter of Tin Street even through solid stone walls.  The markets had sprung back into business, even if they had to make do with piles of rumble and makeshift tables instead of their once beautifully decorated market stalls. He lay, half-conscious, listening to the hubbub down below. The pillow smelled really good. Like flowers and maybe herbs. Feeling about he certainly didn’t find any plant life in the bed with him. He yawned widely and his surroundings finally caught up with him. This wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his house. That was somewhere under a pile of rubble no doubt.  Neither was this his desk. He was in Vraska’s apartment. Was this Vraska’s bed?

He got up, wincing at bare feet on cold stone. Padding out onto the landing, he found only one other door on this floor and that was back into the bathroom. He had been sleeping in Vraska’s bed. So, where was she?

His answer came quickly as he descended the stairs. In the light of a single neglected lamp, he saw Vraska curled up in an armchair, a book half in her lap, half propped against a small table. Her head lolled onto the high back of the chair as she slept.  The position didn’t look entirely comfortable, but she slept soundly as he approached. Now they were on the same level, he could hear her faint snores. Upon the Belligerent it was deemed excessively dangerous to accuse the Captain of snoring. However, Jace, who had once fallen asleep in the Captain’s quarter himself, was very aware that she did. Vraska vehemently denied the fact, yet here she was, snoring away in her armchair.

She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, thrown into sharp relief by the lamplight. She was paler than usual and somehow, now she was out of her gown, looked smaller, definitely wearier. It had been a long few weeks for him as Guildpact, but he couldn’t imagine it was any less stressful to be Guildmaster in times like these. It was testament to how deeply asleep she must be that he could sneak around her house without rousing her. From experience, he knew she slept light, always wary of danger. It was a frame of mind he knew well.

It was only right that he did something for her, especially after she had gone to such lengths for him.  A clock positioned on a nearby bookshelf told him it was the early hours of the morning. He remembered she had gone to get food. Could he make her breakfast? He hadn’t cooked in such a long time, but it was worth a go. He gently stepped round the room, narrowly avoiding another small table. The door to the kitchen was between two book shelves, and it opened silently on its hinges. The room inside was tiny, made for a single person of course. There was a simple gas hob for cooking on, a small counter-top, a few cupboards and a sink. There was a loaf of bread on the counter and a box containing four eggs. A quick scout about the cupboards located a refrigerator, in which he found three types of mushroom, packaged, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be doing with those. One of them was a frilly white specimen a pink stem. These things weren’t colourful unless they were poisonous… He wasn’t sure he was up to Golgari-style cooking today.

 He left the kitchen, closing the door behind him. It may be the early hours of the morning but Tin Street never truly slept. Whilst he could probably make a serviceable breakfast out of bread and eggs, the gesture wouldn’t be nearly as extravagant as he wanted it to be. Besides, it might take a few tries and he didn’t want to ruin some of her perfectly good food.

If he wanted to go out, he was going to need better clothes. A quick glance about revealed a pile of neatly folded clothing on a table by the door, his robes clearly at the bottom of the pile. He very carefully lifted the other laundry out of the way, jumping a little as he accidentally exposed some of Vraska’s…intimates, from amongst the clothing. He scooped them aside by leaving them supported by a jacket. He threw his robes on over his existing clothes, and then an illusion over his robes, before leaving the apartment as quietly as he could.

Even in the wake of the almost-apocalypse, Ravnica was not short on food. He had sat through many meetings with Golgari representatives, and some Selesnyans to discuss the distribution of food, clean water and medicine. The rot-farms produced more than enough; it was just the matter of distributing it before it turned back to rot. The food stalls on Tin Street had replenished their supply in short order, and it proved easy to find all the makings of a good Ravnican breakfast.  He also, though he wasn’t going to admit this to Vraska, managed to pick up a few hints and tips for how to cook from the minds of the vendors. A few even had memories of cooking breakfasts themselves. 

He was about to call the trip a success when he spotted a small tabled wedged between an ironmonger and a pawn shop. A young girl in Selesnyan robes was sitting there, swinging her legs back and forth as people walked past her stand. He could understand why. In these times, when everyone was focused on rebuilding their homes and businesses, it seemed unlikely anyone would want to spend their coin on flowers. He approached the florists with mild trepidation. Would flowers be too much? Vraska was a Queen, she could probably get flowers whenever she wanted. They probably didn’t grow very well in the Undercity though. That was why they tended to favour decorative fungi. Would getting flowers be too forward? He’d once heard there was a whole language behind flowers. It was the sort of thing Nissa would know, maybe Vraska might had read about it in one of her many books? How was he supposed to know which was the correct one to get for the situation at hand? Was there a ‘thank you for letting me crash in your house’ flower?

“Can I help you Mister?” asked the girl. Damn, he’d been caught. He cast his eyes around the stand.

“Can I have those please?” he pointed at a bunch of strange looking orange and purple flowers with a tall stem and long leaves.

“The Bird of Paradise?” asked the girl, getting up and pulling out a paper wrapping. He nodded hastily and passed her a few coins. She passed the bunch over with a smile. He thanked her and then hurried down the street before he made any more questionable decisions. He hoped that Vraska wouldn’t think him an idiot for getting so anxious over flowers! She was thankfully still sound asleep when he got back. He tucked himself away in the kitchen and pulled on all the titbits of information he’d found in the merchants’ minds. One Ravnican-style breakfast coming up!

 

* * *

 

Vraska woke to the smell of burning. She jolted upright in her chair, book hitting the floor with a thud as she turned, seeking out the impending fire.  Her composure steadied when she realised there was no blaze and the smell was coming from the kitchen. She then remembered who she was currently sharing her apartment with. She trusted Jace with her tiny kitchen, but what was he doing in there? She was getting definite wafts of burnt meat from the doorway, which made no sense. She hadn’t bought any meat.

“Jace?” she yawned, “Jace, what are you-?”

There was a colourful stream of swears in many languages. Vraska noted with pride the ones he’d definitely picked up either from her or the Belligerent. Say what you like about pirates, they had some fantastically imaginative curses.  

“Jace, what are you doing? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” he called out, “Just…set the sprinkler charm off. Everything is fine, I countered it.”

“Do you need help?” Was he cooking in there? Could he cook?

“Just relax, I’ve got everything under control. I won’t be long.”

Vraska frowned. On one hand it was good that he was more energetic. On the other hand, she didn’t have the time to wait around for the repair-goblin to come fix her kitchenette. She hesitated in front of the door for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping away. She was going to trust him. If it was anyone other than Jace…well, she’d never let them in her house in the first place.

Settling back in her chair, she periodically sent cautious looks towards the kitchen door. It felt disconcerting to have someone else in her home. This had been her private space. A sanctum for only those she felt comfortable enough to see her in a relaxed setting. She could count how many people that was on one hand. If someone had told her a few years ago she would willingly give up her bed to the Living Guildpact then she would’ve called them a lunatic. Yet here he was. She’d cared enough about a single person, the Guildpact no less, to storm his office, take him home and fuss over him like some mother hen. She’d got over the embarrassment of it all whilst deciding whether or not to do it. Yet now it had happened…She felt very conscious of what a mess the place was in. None of her possessions were remotely organised, many of the books on the shelves were upside down, and she had left a lot of laundry just lying around. Thank goodness she knew a little Dimir-run place that washed clothes without questions. Somehow handing over the Guildpact’s robes to be laundered felt worse than passing them a pile of dresses covered in stone dust and blood-stains.

However, it was nice to spend a little time above ground.  Her quarters in the guildhall were certainly luxurious, but she’d lived so long beside the bustle of the street below, that she frequently missed the noise. Stepping out into the sunlight, after spending so long in shadow, had felt like entering a warm bath. She got to make these trips for meetings, but she’d missed her own space. One that had never been owned by some elven lich lord, as far as she was aware.

“Breakfast!” The door to the kitchen swung open with a thud. Turning immediately at the sudden noise, she immediately identified the source of the burning smell. Jace was carrying a large tray laden with breakfast foods. From her seat, she could see bacon, eggs, sausages, fried vegetables, fresh bread, jam and a large jug of apple juice.  She rose to her feet and cleared a space on the coffee table so he could set the tray down, staring all the while. It looked and smelt amazing, if not a little crispy in places.

“I hope you like it. I had to make a few attempts, but it certainly seems edible.”

She simply stared at him. Jace evidently could cook and…he’d done all this for her?

“Oh,” Jace hastened back to the kitchen and returned with something behind his back. She could just make out a glimpse of something orange over his shoulder.

“This may seem a bit much, but the florist outside wasn’t doing much business, and I felt it would be a nice surprise as you might not see these sorts of flowers very often in the Undercity. So, here.”

She was suddenly presented with a quivering bunch of Bird of Paradise. The source of shaking was certainly Jace’s hands. He looked extremely unsure of himself and Vraska wondered if her expression mirrored the feeling. Flowers? For her? She couldn’t remember an occasion when someone had given her flowers. Her guild members would present her with mushroom bouquets at formal dinners. Yet this was completely different. This was so sincere. Jace had seen flowers and simply wanted to get them for her? This was…a lot.

She took the flowers as she struggled a little with a composure.

“Thank you,” she almost cringed at the breathless note in her voice.

“And…thank you for breakfast. It all looks amazing. I- Thank you Jace.”

The way he stood up a little straighter showed his pleasure at being thanked. She remembered how eager he’d been to show her new things he’d learned aboard the Belligerent. This was almost exactly like that. She was going to have to eat this even if it was terrible. She didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.

She had no need to worry. This surpassed all the café breakfasts she’d had over the years. She liked her bacon on the crispy side and somehow Jace had managed what she never could – to fry eggs so they were still slightly runny in the yolk. They both dug in with the fervour of two overworked leaders who had been thriving off coffee and take-out for the last few weeks. Vraska wasn’t going admit it, but she’d skipped more than enough meals lately for Jace to call her a hypocrite.  She’d also drunk far too much tea and coffee. She’d had to start refusing her aides whenever they offered a fresh pot.  After realising what she was doing to herself, the signs in Jace were clear as day.  They both needed this, even if it was only a nap and a good meal.

“How was it?” Jace asked, as they cleared plates away. Upon returning to the kitchen, Vraska had discovered he had used almost every item of cookware and crockery she owned. They were now sharing the washing up.

“It was great. You might have a new career if politics doesn’t work out for you.”

Jace laughed.

“I enjoyed it, even if I did wreck your kitchen somewhat.” He glanced at the increasing pile of crockery in need to drying and picked up a second tea-towel.

“It’ll survive,” Vraska replied, “I agree, though. I also enjoyed it. Perhaps we should have meals together more often.” She wasn’t pushing too hard, was she?

“Do this regularly?” Jace gave it a mere second of thought, “That would certainly make sure we have a proper meal every now and again.” He was speaking faster, a sign that he was nervous yet excited about the prospect of regular casual meetings.

“Indeed, you don’t have to cook of course. I know some excellent places that I think are still standing.”

Jace nodded.

“Me too. I’ve had a few lunch meetings down the road from the offices. It’ll be an excuse to get some fresh air every once in a while.”

Handing him a bowl, Vraska remembered a promise they’d made before everything had gone apocalyptic.

“And when things go back to normal,” she suggested, “Maybe we can have that book and coffee date?”

Jace almost dropped the bowl. He grinned and instantly looked like he’d lifted a several weeks of stress in a moment.

“I think I can book in some time for that.”

Vraska smiled in return. The last few months had been fraught with danger and war. Yet standing here, in the kitchen, with Jace? It felt like in this moment they weren’t Guildmaster and Guildpact, or even Captain and Crew.  Despite knowing her treacherous court were waiting for her down below, here, in this moment, she had a friend. It was odd. To think she would let someone in this far. Eat with others outside a formal occasion. Even doing domestic chores with another person seemed bizarrely exciting. The thought she could come up and enjoy this kind of simple pleasure – a meal, a conversation, maybe even a date. Well, this post-war Ravnica now seemed a little brighter.

 

 


End file.
